


Yours

by teatimestories



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged Up, M/M, bottom!jaime, possessive bart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatimestories/pseuds/teatimestories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But it's different here, where the language is moans and whimpers, where fingernails leave behind pathways of flushed skin, where saliva hangs in a thin, silvery thread after heated kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I have too many bottom!Jaime fics.
> 
> Anyway, this drabble was written to keep my friend sated while I worked on another smut-fic, heh.
> 
> As old as you want them. I was thinking they were around college-aged here, but whatever you have in mind also works :)

"I want this," Bart whispers, lips on tanned skin, gentle and sweet and then rough and demanding, suckling purple marks into Jaime's throat. Gold is a thin ring around a pair of sex-blown pupils, his eyes half-lidded. "Want everything. Want you."

And what Bart wants, Jaime gives, because Bart doesn't want a lot. Having grown up with so little, it's all Jaime can do to keep himself from handing Bart the world. He's hardly a demanding man, hardly greedy. And Bart's requests are always so small, are so sweet, so innocent, like the pecks he places on Jaime's cheeks when everyone else is watching.

But it's different here, where the language is moans and whimpers, where fingernails leave behind pathways of flushed skin, where saliva hangs in a thin, silvery thread after heated kisses.

"Mine," Bart growls into Jaime's skin, greedily, teeth scraping against the small of a caramel back. He goes even lower, nips at Jaime's cheek hard enough to elicit a surprised yelp from the Latino, to get fingers to tighten in the sweat-dampened sheets, to get Jaime to sharply inhale the air of simmering lust. He likes the marks he leaves behind-- they disappear all too quickly on the skin of a speedster, but on Jaime they remain, proof that Jaime is his. Pink and purple sing out to him, scattered all over Jaime's body; draw out a craving for a shivering Latino, sobbing and torn between spent exhaustion and unbidden, insatiable yearning.

"Mine," he murmurs, licks a stripe up the inside of Jaime's thigh, smooth and sweet.

Jaime arches into the touch, seeking an unbearable heat he's inexplicably drawn to. He bucks, weak under the touch of a brunette that looks all too similar to a god in the sifted light through the blinds, afternoon sun cradling pale, wind-touched skin. A soft cry is stolen from his lips when Bart's hand goes to his sex, fingers tight against his base and twisting at the upstroke.

"Yours," Jaime agrees in a wavering breath, because what Bart wants, Jaime gives. The speedster's thumb rubs langorous shapes into the expanse of tan abdomen, slow and relaxing, but Bart's mouth is hungry. A tongue rasps in circles against the hollow of Jaime's hip; he shudders when he feels another lovemark sucked onto his skin.

He stares at Bart through lust-clouded eyes, seeing something like an angel stare back at him, but the eyes belong to the devil. Ravenous, aroused, full of a fervor that makes the blood thunder in Jaime's veins.

Tongue to skin, lips to flesh, curious hands to a canvas of a body. Heart to starved, desiring heart.

"Yours."


End file.
